


The One With the Tiny T-Shirt

by candygramme



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, may be triggering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23517415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candygramme/pseuds/candygramme
Summary: This was written for a challenge, to write a story with the title to an episode of Friends.  It is not a nice story, but the Jensen in this story is not a fainting flower.  He's strong enough to save himself.
Kudos: 18





	The One With the Tiny T-Shirt

The joy of filming always wore off after the Christmas break. By that time, they’d been filming non-stop, six days a week 12-15 hours a day for six months. 

Jensen Ackles knew the power of his looks, knew what he had to do to maintain them, and knew, too, that it wasn’t possible to do that properly on four or five hours of sleep a night. Despite the four weeks at home, he was not well rested. He knew that his eyes were perpetually rimmed in red, and his lips were dry and chapped. He looked pasty and felt liverish and unhealthy.

Jared didn’t seem to need sleep the way he did. He was bright eyed and full of plans to torment their current guest star, who just happened to be Misha Collins, back for an appearance for the first time since Castiel had walked into the lake at the start of the season. Jensen smiled and nodded as Jared revealed his plans, but his heart was obviously not in it. He was tired, bone tired and just wanted to sleep away the afternoon.

“Seriously, dude, you’re much less fun than you used to be.” Jared poked at him, face assuming his most plaintive expression.

“Yeah, I know.” Jensen sighed. “I don’t know what it is. I’m just tired.”

“Getting old, old man.” Jared ruffled his carefully styled hair and snickered. “Can’t do it like you used to.”

“Sadly, that seems to be true,” nodded Jensen, drooping visibly. “I just want to sleep all the time.”

“You think you need to go see a doc?” Jared was frowning now, wrestling with the vexing problem of Jensen’s exhaustion. “That could be a sign of something. You should get checked over. Maybe start eating spinach or something.”

“It’s lack of sleep.” Jensen yawned expansively, as if to point up his message. “It’s getting to the stage that I can’t sleep now, even when I want to, because I’m so tired.”

There was a tap on the door of the trailer, and a clear voice called, “Five minutes, Jensen.” Jensen closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “But I guess we just get out there and do it. Finish up the season and then I can get some sleep. Something like that.”

“Yeah. Let’s just get through this and…” Jared was still turning to look back at Jensen as he opened the trailer door and stepped down and into the tin tub full of water that Misha had placed on the second step.

Following behind him, Jensen drew up just in time and stood in the doorway frowning. Down on the ground beyond the steps, Misha and two or three of the crew were snickering as Jared slowly squelched his way out of the water and down onto the sidewalk.

“You’ll live to regret this, Collins,” he growled as Misha slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“I don’t believe so,” grinned Misha. “And the minions are going to love it. Oh, by the way, they want you on set.”

He turned to make his way to where the shoot had been set up, and left Jared surveying his wet feet and grumbling. Jensen burst into laughter and stood watching as his co-star made his way slowly over to the wardrobe trailer.

One of the crew – Jensen didn’t know his name, but knew that he was a fairly new face – had remained behind when the others had followed Misha over to the set. He was still chuckling, and as Jensen kicked the tub off the step in a spill of water so that he could make his own way over to where the director was waiting, he met Jensen’s eyes.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a bundle of laughs on this set,” he said to Jensen, and Jensen shook his head in disbelief at the scene he’d just witnessed.

“Yeah, man, you’ve gotta be fast to catch Jared like that,” he said, still laughing. “Usually it’s him that gets Misha. I’m gonna need a bodyguard, I think. It’ll be me next.”

“Don’t you worry.” The man laid his hand on Jensen’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

“Uh… That’s okay, dude,” murmured Jensen as he moved away, frowning a little as the man fell into step beside him. “If Misha gets me, it’ll be because I wasn’t watching, and I’ll deserve what I get.”

“You need someone to watch your back.” The man was still at Jensen’s elbow, and Jensen was starting to feel a little uncomfortable. He stopped and turned to meet his eyes.

“What’s your name, dude?” he asked.

“Call me Luke.” The PA gave Jensen a long look and smiled.

“Well, okay, Luke, thanks for the offer, but I’m a big boy. I’ll be fine. You’d do better to protect Misha from me and Jared.” Jensen turned away. “He’s good, but he ain’t up to our standard.”

He rounded the screen as he was speaking and made for his chair alongside where Phil was talking to Serge. Moments later, Jared appeared, dry and wearing another pair of ratty jeans, and Luke was forgotten for the moment.

They filmed through the afternoon and well into the evening. It was after 9pm when they broke for dinner and Jensen made his way over to where Jared was standing watching Misha with a gleam in his eye that didn’t bode any good for anyone.

“You wanna skip on over to The Keg for a steak? We’ve got time while they get set up for the next scene.” He was acutely conscious of the fact that the PA who had been hanging around him earlier was back, hovering just a few feet away as if wanting to attract his attention. “Tell the truth, that new PA is giving me the creeps. I think it might be good to get off site for an hour or so while he calms down.”

His words made Jared start. He stopped giving Misha the evil eye and focused on Jensen instead. “Why? What’s he been doing?”  
“Uh… Nothing really. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s really just the way he’s hovering around me instead of doing whatever it is he’s supposed to be doing.” Jensen frowned. “He’s creepy is all, and I’m probably an idiot.”

“No, man. If he’s creeping you out, it’s because you’ve attracted more than your fair share of lunatics.” Jared grinned at him. “Your spidey senses are tingling. That’s what it is.”

Jensen rolled his eyes, but after a moment he nodded. “Something like that,” he admitted.

“Why don’t we go have a word with Clif?” Jared flung his arm around Jensen’s shoulders and turned him towards the parking lot where the big driver was sitting in his SUV, playing with his iPad. As the two of them climbed into the vehicle, the man who called himself Luke was watching from around the corner of the building.

~*~

It was hours later before Jensen could return to his trailer. He was numb with cold, having spent the best part of the evening on location on a particularly windswept stretch of road out in Richmond. Kicking his boots off, he poured himself a shot and then stumbled to the small bathroom to begin taking his makeup off, groping for the cream and tissues he needed.

Once it was clean, he bent to wash his face and then reached for a towel and began to rub his hair dry. It had been drizzling all evening, and although he wasn’t quite soaked through, his hair was still somewhat damp.

He was reaching for his comb when Jared tapped on the door and shoved it open. “You ready to go, dude? Dunno about you, but I’m tired.” 

“Yeah. Be with you in a minute,” nodded Jensen, fumbling along the edge of the sink as he felt for his comb. “Fuck. You seen my comb anywhere? Thought I had it right here.”

It wasn’t there, and it hadn’t fallen on the floor either. Finally, Jensen ran his fingers through his hair and shrugged. He couldn’t remember taking it with him, but maybe be he had. Turning to follow Jared out to the SUV, he thought no more about it. Combs were cheap, and Jeannie would give him another one, he was sure.

~*~

The next morning as he arrived, yawning and still drowsy, he was given one of Shannon’s much prized cupcakes. Jared had one too, and he immediately inhaled it with noisy slurping sounds. Jensen smirked at him and thanked the makeup artist. “I’ma save it ‘til later, when I’m done the emo scene. I’ll need it then, so thank you.”

Stashing it away in his trailer, he made his way to the set. He couldn’t help noticing that Clif was sticking to his side like glue. Ordinarily, unless they were on location he would sit in the car and chat online, but today he was in full bodyguard mode. The PA who had made him nervous was still managing to find tasks to do that would keep him close to Jensen, but Clif in full bodyguard mode was enough to intimidate the most persistent fan, and he had no opportunity to encroach into Jensen’s space as Jensen waited to be called.

He was scheduled to emote over an injured Sam, and by the time he was done, he wanted nothing more than to slump into his trailer and close his eyes until they needed him again. His usual habit of walking off the faux emotions was too much effort for him. He felt drained, imagining that Jared had sustained the kind of injury Sam had sustained had taken him to places he really didn’t want to go, but he was just so tired.

“You want me to bring you something to eat?” called Jared, who was on his way to hit up craft services as usual. 

“K…” Jensen raised a hand as he went, but didn’t stop. Arriving at his trailer, he shoved the door open and stumbled inside, grateful for the respite. He made for the fridge, pulling it open to get at the cupcake he’d stashed away earlier in the day, but it was nowhere to be seen.

His first thought was to blame Jared, but for once when challenged Jared didn’t flush or look guilty, and in fact, went to scrounge another of the delicacies from the talented makeup artist especially for Jensen. Jensen was flummoxed.

He couldn’t find his mug that Jared had given him, the one that said, ‘don’t hate my single, perfect tear,’ and that was a real problem. When Jared finally came in, bearing food for them both, and another cupcake from Shannon, he was on his knees looking through the garbage in case he’d accidentally knocked it into there.

“Jensen?” Jared stood frowning down at him, and he rose to his feet. 

“Lost my mug,” he grumbled. “You didn’t borrow it, did you?”

“No.” Jared’s frown became more pronounced. “Weird. And your comb went west yesterday. Anything else?”

“Not apart from my cupcake.” Jensen looked around himself. “You need to bring my Wii back though. I wanted to play MotoHeroz tonight.”

“Dude, I don’t have your Wii. I brought it back on Wednesday, remember?” Jared sat down on the couch and pulled out his phone. “Hey, Clif, someone’s been in Jensen’s trailer. I’m starting to think we need the cops or something.”

“Dude, we don’t need the cops.” Jensen raised his voice. “No cops. We’ll just ask around; someone probably borrowed it.”

“Clif says he’ll ask around.” Jared slid his phone back into his pocket. “Good thing we’re on the last but one episode of the season. You look overdue to take a break, and I know that I am. It’ll be good to head for the sun.”

“Yeah.” Jensen reached for his meal, inhaling the fragrance of the pot roast Jared had brought for him before starting to dig in. “It always gets me at this stage of the season. I could sleep for about a week, and then just kick back and grow my hair.”

“You should. Dean would look better with hair like mine.” Jared smirked around a mouthful of chicken.

“You kidding me?” Jensen rolled his eyes. “You look like you’re grooming yourself to be Shaggy in the next Scooby Doo movie. You’re living it, with the food and the hair and the string bean look. All that’s missing is the dog. Oh, wait…”

Jared aimed a half-hearted punch at Jensen’s shoulder before returning to his food. “I should totally eat your cupcake for that,” he growled.

“Don’t you dare.” Jensen dropped his fork and reached for the delicacy. “It’s my treat. Mine.”

Amid mocking laughter from his co-star, Jensen hurried to eat his meal so that he could devour his cupcake and keep it safe from future threats.

He’d just finished the last, delectable crumb, when the tap on the door came, and the call that they were needed on set in five minutes. Sighing, Jensen rose to his feet, ready to go back into the fray.

~*~

It was 11 days later, when the magic words, “It’s a wrap,” were uttered, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. Supernatural was over for another season, and they were on break until they would reconvene in August to start filming all over again. The wrap party was scheduled for the Friday evening at the Waldorf Hotel on Hastings, and both Jensen and Jared were booked to fly down to LA on the Saturday morning. Once in LA they would have a couple of days rest before they were due to take part in their usual LA Creation convention. 

Jensen spent the party sitting with Serge, talking about lenses and sipping the single malt that Phil had given him for his birthday. Jared had done the rounds, socializing in his usual gregarious way. The PA who had caused Jensen concern was still there, seeming a little drunk as the evening progressed. He was still hovering close to Jensen, watching him as he chatted, and after a while Jared went over to him.

“You seem very interested in Jensen,” he said, gesturing vaguely towards where his co-star sat.

“Yeah. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.” The man raised his glass and drank from it. “He’s hot for it, isn’t he?”

Jared’s jaw dropped. “Dude, give your head a shake. I don’t know what you think he’s hot for, but one thing I can tell you is, it ain’t you.”

“We all know about you and Jensen.” The man sneered, and Jared had had enough. He dropped his affable manner and straightened up to his full height, looming, huge and dangerous, over the other man. Clif, who had watched the two of them and seen the flash of annoyance flit over Jared’s face, was soon standing by his side, and Jared pointed.

“Get out. Go on, get out now, and don’t ever come back.” Beside him, Clif folded his arms and looked equally menacing, and the man backed away a little.

“You think he’s yours?” he said. “You’re living in a fool’s paradise. He’s anyone’s.”

Jared started forward and Luke turned and ran, making himself scarce in very short order.

When he collected Jensen later to head for home, he didn’t mention the strange confrontation from earlier, and later he was to wonder if that had been the right decision.

~*~

When Jared had returned to collect Jensen, he’d been decidedly heavy eyed, and Jared had led him out to where Clif was waiting to ferry the two of them back to their apartment block.

It was only a fifteen minute drive, but by the time the SUV arrived back at their front door, Jensen had slumped onto Jared’s shoulder and was apparently deep in dreamland. Clif took a look at him and then grinned. “He seems awful tired lately, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. I wanted him to see a doc, but he said it was just the stress of the season getting to him.” Jared indicated his sleeping co-star. “I’ll wake him up. He can’t stay here all night.”

“You want me to bring him up for you?” Cliff came around to the open door and studied Jensen. “Seems a shame to disturb him.”

“Yeah.” Jared looked relieved. “Just gimme a sec.” He fumbled through Jensen’s pockets and found his keycard. “Okay, we’re good to go.”

Clif nodded and gathered the sleeping Jensen into his arms, following Jared up to the front door and then the elevator. Opening the door to Jensen’s apartment, Jared led the way back to the bedroom, where Clif deposited his still sleeping charge.

“I’ll pick you guys up tomorrow morning at 7:30, okay?” The burly driver was already heading for the door as he spoke, and Jared followed him out, confirming the time for their departure with him. He watched Clif get into the elevator and then turned to enter his own suite next door to Jensen’s, locking the door behind him and making for the closet, walking in to push open the door that connected straight into Jensen’s.

“Gonna miss you,” he murmured, bending to pull off Jensen’s shoes and then his jeans. Jensen didn’t stir, and Jared finally slipped off his own clothes and snuggled down behind him, reaching to turn out the light.

~*~ 

The morning dawned, rainy and overcast as it was so often in Vancouver. Jensen crawled out of bed looking heavy eyed and droopy, but following coffee and breakfast he was able to function well enough to be ready when Clif arrived to take them to the airport.

“I think you need to see a doc while you’re in LA, Jen.” Jared was frowning. “You aren’t yourself.”

“Who am I then?” Jensen’s lopsided smirk was not unexpected. “And if you say Mike Rosenbaum, I’ll kick your ass.”

“No, dumbass!” Jared elbowed him in the ribs. “You know what I mean. You’re just… floppy. I think you’ve got mono or anemia or something.”

“Yeah, okay, mom.” Jensen nodded, yawned and then smiled. “I just don’t know what it is, but I know what you mean. It’s like I’m underwater all the time or something. I’ll get a checkup.”

Their first port of call after they landed in LA was Burbank, where they were due to attend a convention. Jared had fully intended to head for home, but Jensen seemed to have recovered a little of his liveliness, and the two of them ended up heading for the hotel to meet up with some of the other cast members they hadn’t seen for some time. The karaoke night with Matt and Richard was in full swing. Gen and Danneel had joined the two men, and although they did not appear in front of the curtain, they were having a fantastic time behind the scenes, and Jensen was on form, goofing around happily, apparently over his fatigue.

The following morning, as usual, was a great success. Fans loved them, and the two of them responded to the love, clowning happily as they gave them what they’d come for. Jared smiled as he watched Jensen goof around, apparently over the dreadful fatigue he’d been suffering from.

“I dunno whether it was the rain in Vancouver, or whether you’re allergic to work, dude, but you seem to have staged a full recovery,” he murmured to Jensen as the two of them left the stage to prepare for the hours of autograph signing that were to come.

“Yeah. Feel really good today.” Jensen bumped his shoulder in a friendly fashion and gave him a grin. “Guess it’s the sunshine.”

“Smog, more like,” said Jared, returning his grin with a beaming smile of his own. “So I’ve got a meeting with Michael Bay tomorrow, that should be done by three. Do you want to get together afterwards and have a drink, maybe blow off a little hiatus steam?”

“Sounds good,” murmured Jensen. “I’m meeting some of the “Ten Inch Hero” cast for lunch, with Danni, but we’ll be done by three. Where do you want to meet up?”

It didn’t take long for the two of them to agree on a venue, and then they were called to take their positions for the signing. It seemed like an age before they were done and cleared to retire to the green room, and once there, they joined in happily with the other attendees in an impromptu celebration for the show’s renewal.

Jared was three sheets to the wind by the time he clambered into a cab alongside Genevieve to head home. It had been a good convention, but he was ready for a little rest and relaxation now, and he didn’t want to think about work.

~*~

Jared felt that his meeting had gone well, and on his way over to the Abbey in West Hollywood to meet Jensen, he wondered if he should call first, but then shrugged his shoulders. Jensen was the one who’d chosen the venue, so he wouldn’t forget.

The Abbey wasn’t too crowded yet, and Jared found himself a seat in the courtyard, ordered an apple martini and settled back to wait for his co-star. 

At a quarter to four, he was still waiting. Finally, he reached for his phone and dialed Jensen, prepared to give him hell for blowing him off. The phone rang a few times before going to voicemail, and he stared at it in dismay. Jensen was addicted to his phone, and no way would he let it ring through to leave a message unless there was something preventing him.

His blood ran cold suddenly, and he swiftly dialed Danneel. 

“Jared! She sounded a little tipsy. “How’s it going?”

“I was just wondering if Jensen was coming, or if he got something last minute that’s held him back.” 

“Isn’t he with you?” Her voice cracked, sounding suddenly worried, and he felt a premonition that something bad had happened.

“No. Not yet. I was just calling to find out where he was.” 

“He left here at around two-thirty,” said Danneel, softly. “He left to go and meet you.”

~*~

Jensen was groggy and a little scared. He couldn’t see where he was; there was something covering his eyes, and he felt sick and giddy. He couldn’t quite remember what had led up to this moment. He could recall stepping out of the restaurant where they’d had lunch to go and meet Jared. He remembered going down into the underground parking lot to find his car, but that was all. Now he was lying, swaddled in some sort of confining cloth, and there was something over his face.

He called out, but there was no answer, and he tried to roll over, giving up when a wave of nausea washed him. The very last thing he wanted was to vomit into whatever it was that was wrapped around his head.

He lay and listened. He could tell he was in a vehicle, and that it was in motion. He could feel the surges as it maneuvered through the traffic, sense the vibration of the engine below him. There were at least two other people in the vehicle with him, he thought, because he could hear them talking quietly to each other although he couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. 

Taking a deep breath, he gathered his strength, awaiting what might be an opportunity to escape. Crazily, he tried to think what Dean Winchester would do, and concluded that Dean would rely on Sam to get him out of this. Unfortunately, he didn’t have Sam, although he did have Jared, and he hoped that Jared would by now realize he wasn’t going to show up at the Abbey and trigger a search for him.

It seemed like forever that they drove. The sour sting of exhaust fumes at the back of his throat made his stomach roil, and his head swim, and he knew he was fading in and out of consciousness.

He never knew how long he lay there, queasy and ashamed that he’d somehow allowed himself to be put in this position, as the vehicle he was in rattled to its destination. He was scared of what was happening to him and terrified not to know the worst. Eventually the transport lurched to a stop. He was hauled roughly aloft to be tossed negligently across a meaty shoulder and there dangled helplessly, still bound, while his abductor carted him from the vehicle to the next stop in his unknown itinerary.

For a while he was dumped on something soft – a mattress perhaps – and left to stew for a time that dragged like molasses, heavy with unanswered questions. He dozed, cut off from the sights and sounds, and even the feeling in his limbs. For a while, his hands and feet had throbbed, but the bonds around them had been tight enough to cut off sensation, and the way he was lying had long since sent his arms to sleep.

He jerked awake to the sound of booted feet clumping across the floor towards him. His head ached, and he was afraid that something dreadful was going to happen to him. He moaned behind the tape that was stuck over his mouth and did his best to squirm. There was a laugh, and then he felt fingers at his throat, fumbling with whatever was tied over his head. A moment later he was blinking and wincing as his eyes streamed from the sudden brightness of the light.

His tormentor was male, he’d deduced that much from the deep, gruff laugh as he’d emerged from his cocoon, but Jensen couldn’t see him other than a large, dark shape against the bright light. He let out a yell as the tape was unceremoniously ripped from his face, taking what he was convinced were huge tracts of skin with it.

“In a minute, I’m going to untie you,” said the presence, and Jensen knew that voice.

“Clif?” He thought for a moment that he’d been rescued as he watched the big man slowly come into focus, but his hopes were soon dashed. Clif didn’t seem to notice that he’d spoken. He turned to address someone who had entered the room behind him.

“Have you got it?” he asked the newcomer.

“Yep. Sure have,” and that was another familiar voice. Jensen’s heart sank at the sound of it. Clif murmured something and reached over Jensen to take whatever ‘it’ was, returning into view with a syringe.

“Okay, Jensen,” said Clif, returning his attention to his captive. “This is how this is going to go. I have here a syringe full of something called Norcuron. If I inject it into you, it’ll paralyze you for an hour or so, and stop you from doing anything stupid like fighting. Once I’ve shot you full of it, I’ll release your hands and feet, and we’ll hope that it’s not too painful, because Norcuron doesn’t anesthetize, I’m sorry to say. It just inhibits your ability to move.” He paused. “There’s a slight snag with Norcuron. I’m hoping that my friend here has got the dose right, because if we were to give you too much it would play hell with your breathing too. Sadly, that would mean that we’d lose our investment, and you’d lose your life.” Clif smiled, the same smile Jensen had seen pretty much every day at work for the past three and a half years. “So I’ll do you a deal. If you promise that you’ll sit still and not do anything stupid, I’ll hold off on the shot, but you know it would only take me a minute to give it to you.”  
Jensen had found it really hard to take in what Clif was saying. He was way too confused to focus on the words. In his head he wondered if this was some kind of joke that was being played on him, but had to admit to himself that it was really not funny.

He jerked his attention back to Clif, who was menacing him with the hypodermic. “Don’t…” he croaked.

“You give your word you won’t struggle?” 

Jensen nodded, and the big bodyguard set the syringe aside and took out a knife, bending to cut the bonds at his ankles first.

“You’re setting him free?” Luke sounded somewhat uneasy, and Clif snorted. 

“We don’t particularly want him to lose his hands and feet, do we?” was all he said, and turned to slice free the ropes that held his hands so tightly together.

For a moment, Jensen felt nothing as his arms flopped free, seemingly no longer a part of him, then the pain started. Pins and needles burned through him, and his hands and arms burned, agony flickering along each limb to ignite his shoulders. His feet were cramped, toes curling under in an uncontrollable spasm, and he keened, not knowing what to do to alleviate the pain. The man Jensen had identified as Luke reached to stroke his hair, and Jensen jerked his head away from him, earning a slap from the same source.

Clif bared his teeth. “Dude, if you damage him, you’re going to wish you’d never even heard of Jensen Ackles.”

“You saw him. He disrespected me. He’ll sing a different tune once it’s my turn, won’t he?” There was anger in Luke’s voice, and Jensen felt a rush of fear through his body as he listened to them.

“Course he will.” Clif picked up the syringe and turned to Jensen. “Right now, we’ve gotta protect our investment. The auction’s tonight, and we want him in good condition.”

“Auction?” Jensen forgot about the slowly diminishing pain in his extremities as he decoded Clif’s last words. “What auction? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” said Clif, who had been reaching for a leather collar and cuffs as he was speaking. Reaching, he captured Jensen’s hands and fastened the leather around his wrists, then buckled on the collar, clipping it to a chain that he’d already fastened to a sturdy bolt in the floor. There were two more chains, and he passed them from the cuffs to the collar, restricting Jensen’s arm movements so that he would be unable to reach down any further than hip height and then locking the entire contraption with a heavy duty padlock. “There. That should do,” he said. “Can’t have you running around causing trouble.”

“Come on, Clif. Tell me what’s happening. Where am I? What am I doing here?” Jensen had risen to his feet and was trying to get his feet to stop cramping by walking to and fro as far as the chain would allow.

“You’ll find out.” Clif gestured to Luke to leave the room and moved to follow him. “Someone will bring you a drink and some painkillers. You hungry?”

“Hungry?” Jensen shook his head, frowning. “Clif…” But it was too late. The big man had left the room, and although the door remained open, the chains that confined him prevented him from leaving. For a moment he continued to pace. An inventory of the contents of his pockets revealed that his phone and wallet had been removed, as had the knife he usually carried on him. He had a couple of pieces of gum, his cigarettes and lighter, and a handful of loose change, and that was all. Sighing, he took out a cigarette, lit it and sat down on the bed to consider his fate.

~*~

When Jared drew up outside Jensen and Danneel’s house, he wasn’t expecting her to rush out and hug him. Danneel had always been a little reticent with him – almost as if she suspected him of something heinous. It was obvious that she’d been crying, and he let her sob against him for a moment, unsure how to react. Finally, he patted her tentatively. “You want me to call Gen?” he asked her.

She nodded against his chest, and he put one arm around her while fishing out his cell phone with the other. As he led her into the house, he swiftly called his wife, who promised to make it there as soon as she could. 

“Thanks for coming.” Danneel seemed to recover her composure once he’d assured her that Genevieve was on her way. “I’m so scared. Clif called a few minutes ago. He said that when he was leaving Wolfgang’s after the lunch meeting he’d seen Jensen being manhandled into a car. He said he’d chased after them, but by the time he reached his car they were gone. What do I do? Jensen’s been kidnapped.”

Jared frowned. “Have you called the police yet?”

Her eyes widened, and she shook her head again. “No, not yet. You arrived just after I put the phone down on Clif.”

“We should do it now, then,” murmured Jared, rubbing her back encouragingly. Danneel looked woebegone, and far from her usual poised and snarky self. Her face was blotchy, and her eyes were puffy from crying, her mascara smudged around them where she’d rubbed it away.

Collecting herself visibly, she reached for her phone and dialed, telling the person at the other end of the line what she knew so far. Tears ran down her cheeks unchecked as she talked, and she sniffled a little as she spoke. She finally hung up and set the phone down, turning to Jared to tell him the police were sending someone around.

Meanwhile, Jared had called Clif to find out exactly what he’d seen. “Listen, we’ve called the cops. You’re the last person to see him before he disappeared, so they’re gonna want to talk to you.” When he finally put his phone away, Clif had said he would come straight over.

~*~

Jensen had been given a bottle of water and a pack of sandwiches wrapped in saran wrap and left to stew in his own juices for what seemed like forever. He couldn’t reach the window because the chain that held him wasn’t long enough, but he was aware that the day was almost over because the light was beginning to fade, leaving the room he was in shrouded in gloom.

He finished the sandwiches and sat down on the edge of the bed, looking around to see if there was anything he could use to effect an escape. For a while he contemplated setting fire to the mattress, but the possibility that he would be left to burn or suffocate on toxic smoke stopped him, and he paused to evaluate his possessions again. There was nothing useful. Nothing at all.

It had been dark for some time when Clif reappeared along with two other men who were as big as he was, if not bigger.

“Okay,” he said. “It’s showtime.”

“Gonna tell me what the show entails?” Jensen growled and Clif smirked at him. 

“You’ll find out in a few minutes,” commented one of the men, snickering in an unpleasant manner.

Clif had been busy unfastening the chain from the bolt in the floor, and now he moved forward, holding it in one meaty hand. “Okay, Jen. You can either come quietly, or between us we’ll get you there anyway. Your choice.”

Jensen peered at the three men and nodded, knowing that he was outnumbered. “So where are we going?”

“We’re going to an auction,” Clif said, tugging on the chain to lead Jensen forward and out of the room. A little later, Jensen found himself in a curtained-off alcove, and helplessly tethered by his wrist chains to a bar above his head.

“Come on, Clif. You’ve got to know that this is a bad idea.” Jensen was really nervous. His mind was running riot, picturing scenarios where each one was more horrific than the last. “Let me go, and I won’t say anything to the cops, okay? Danni’s going to be frantic by now.”

“Oh, she is,” said Clif. “I was at your house a half an hour ago. Don’t worry though. Jared was there to comfort her. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“What do you mean, you were at my house? What the fuck is going on?” Jensen struggled in his bonds, but it was futile. Clif didn’t answer, and after a moment he turned and left Jensen alone.

He didn’t have long to wait. He could hear the noises that came with many people all talking at once, the scuffle of chairs on a hard floor, and the clink of glasses. He called out a couple of times, but there was no response until all of a sudden a bright spotlight came on and the curtain in front of him slowly opened to reveal a darkened room that was full of people.

Squinting against the light, Jensen couldn’t make out any features, but he could see the shapes of people out there in the audience. A sound to the left of him heralded the turning on of a microphone, and after a few moments of screeching feedback, a voice he didn’t know boomed out.  
“Good evening, gentlemen. Tonight, I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to a once in a lifetime event. We’re here to offer for sale the very desirable property you see before you.” The voice paused for a moment. “I’m sure you’re all familiar with Mr. Ackles, but for those who wish to view the property more closely, we’ll make that possible. Gentlemen, if you please?”

Clif’s two husky cohorts materialized from out of the darkness and began to move towards Jensen, and one of them had a knife in his hand that Jensen recognized as his own. He drew a breath to start yelling, but let it go again in shock as the man grabbed his shirt and sliced it neatly up the front before reaching for the fabric and pulling it taut to cut it off his arms. 

Out in the room beyond the lights, there were murmurs of quiet approval, and one person whistled sharply. The unseen announcer called out to ask for silence and then Jensen felt his jeans receiving the same treatment as his T-shirt. In just a few seconds he was exposed and left to stand naked in front of his audience without any possibility of covering himself.

“Now, gentlemen, if you would like a closer look, please form a line beside one of the ushers. Once everyone is satisfied that Mr. Ackles is in good condition, we can begin the bidding.”

There was a scraping of chairs being pushed back, and a hubbub as people jostled for position. The ushers – Jensen could hear Clif’s voice and assumed he was one of them – were shouting commands. 

“Are we ready?” The person at the microphone sounded amused. “We’re requesting that you look, but please don’t touch. The winner will secure the merchandise in pristine condition, and after that, he will be able to do with him as he wishes. Until that time, we’d like to make sure that he remains unblemished.”

“Right this way,” called Clif, and Jensen saw him appear from the auditorium, with a line of men following behind him. The line all followed Clif along the front of the stage, then up onto it and behind Jensen before descending once again back into the auditorium. Several times, Jensen jerked as he felt surreptitious caresses, but the line kept on coming and he found himself wondering just how many were there, witness to his humiliation.

At last, they were done, and had taken their seats again, and the announcer turned his microphone back on.

“So, gentlemen, shall we start the bidding at $10,000 dollars?”

~*~

The police had been and gone. Genevieve had arrived and between her and Jared they had succeeded in getting Danneel to take a sleeping pill and get some sleep. Clif had recounted his story to the police, and they had gone to Wolfgang’s restaurant to see if they could find anything that might point to where Jensen might have gone.

The two Padaleckis had agreed to stay with Danneel, and Clif had announced that he had an appointment that evening, but that he would be back later on in the evening, so he could keep watch in case anyone attempted to take Jared. “I’m sure there’ll be a ransom call or something,” he’d said. “What else would they possibly want with Jen?”  
Jared’s mind was running riot. There were so many things he could imagine wanting Jensen for, and none of them were good. He spent a very uncomfortable night. Sleep refused to come and he lay picturing a million scenarios, each one worse than the last until daylight dawned and he was finally able to get up out of Jensen’s guest bed and stumble down to the kitchen where Danneel was sitting, heavy eyed and disheveled.

Clif hadn’t returned, and Danneel was stressing out in case something had happened to him too. She wavered between pacing the floor and gulping down coffee, her eyes brimming with tears. A ring on the intercom by the gate sent her running, thinking that maybe Clif had appeared at last, but it was the detective who was the lead in the case, and as she buzzed through to let him in, she staggered to a chair and sat down, unable to decide what she should do.

Detective Sergeant Larsen was a blond, shaggy haired man who gave off surfer dude vibes and somehow didn’t seem like a detective at all. He looked more like the kind of man who might spend his days on Newport Beach catching waves. His partner, a hispanic looking older man with thick, glossy dark curls and a solemn demeanor, followed him into the kitchen, and both Danneel and Jared waited to hear what they’d discovered.

Danneel had risen to fetch the newcomers a coffee each, but her hands were shaking so hard that after watching her for a moment, Jared got up and relieved her of the carafe, pouring their drinks himself as she stood and wrung her hands.

“What have you found out?” He passed each officer a mug of coffee and leaned forward, desperate to do something to break the tension he was feeling wind tighter and tighter.

“Mr. Ackles’s car was still in the parking lot in back of Wolfgang’s,” murmured Detective Larsen. “It was locked, but when we opened it we found these.” He gestured to his partner, who put on a pair of cotton gloves, removed several plastic bags and laid out what seemed to be Jensen’s wallet, watch and cellphone in a row. “We’ll be taking them in to get prints run on them and so on, but I wanted to get you to identify them for me, if possible. Do they look like Mr. Ackles’s belongings?”

“That’s the watch I gave him way back,” said Jared, with a catch in his voice.

Danneel turned over the wallet in its plastic covering and nodded as she found the ‘JRA’ that was embossed onto the corner of the leather. “It’s his,” she said, the tears spilling afresh.

~*~

Jensen was exhausted. He’d remained suspended from the chains that held him while faceless people pushed the bidding ever higher, and the thought that it was he who was being purchased made him queasy, afraid of what they might want with him, afraid that he already knew.

The fact that he’d been stripped and displayed the way he had pointed to an almost certain fate as some kind of sexual pawn. The only question he had really was to whom, and for how many people would he be forced to submit? 

He had been blessed with beauty, intelligence and talent, and he’d always felt favored by the gods. For this to happen to him just showed that perhaps he’d received too much, or perhaps not given enough back. Mentally he began to catalogue ways that he could give back if ever he was able to escape from this situation again. As the bidding reached close to the million dollar mark, he began to pray; silently sending up promises to the God he had begun to take for granted over the past few fortunate years.

He almost missed when the gavel finally fell, and he was sold.

“One point four million dollars,” announced the auctioneer, and there were groans, amidst a smattering of polite applause. “The merchandise will be delivered to you tomorrow morning, following the verification of receipt of payment. Thank you, gentlemen.”

Clif had moved in then, reaching to unfasten the chains that were bolted just out of Jensen’s reach. Something in Jensen’s eyes made Clif pause and lean in close to whisper, “Don’t even try it, or I’ll shoot you so full of happy juice you’ll think you’re at Disneyland.”

Jensen stiffened, shocked at Clif’s vehemence, and when the big man reached to take his arms down, he went for it, clasping his hands together to aim a blow at the bodyguard’s head. “Gonna kill you, you treacherous piece of shit,” he snarled, grinning tightly as his fists struck home, knocking Clif backwards off the stage where he hit his head and lay still.

A moment later, he felt a pinch at the back of his neck and the heat as whatever cocktail of drugs they’d prepared for him swirled through his system. Gasping, he dropped to his knees as his head began to swim.

~*~

He came to with a pounding headache and a sickening, metallic taste in his mouth. He was disoriented and tried to struggle to his feet, moaning as he realized he was tied to something and utterly unable to move anything except his head. He was still naked, and his ankles and knees were fastened so that his legs were apart. He lay bent from the waist, his arms pulled forward to hold him firm and strapped to metal handles that were bolted onto the padded surface in front of him.

He was tempted to cry, but after a few moments’ thought he decided that there was no way in hell he would give his captors the satisfaction. He was not an innocent; he knew what his present position implied, and he wasn’t looking forward to it at all. He could only hope that whoever his rapist might be, he would use lube and not be as brutal as he could be.

He just wished that whoever was planning to abuse him would get the fuck on with it, and that thought made him laugh a little, and he made up his mind at that point that he would not be a victim. He took a deep breath and began to yell. “Hey! Come on,” he bellowed, “My ass is getting cold. What are you waiting for, ya pussy?”

There was a pause, and then a well known voice assailed his senses.

“You always was an attention whore, Ackles.”

“And you never had a chance of getting this any other way than by rape, did you, Kosterman?” Jensen put as much disdain into his voice as he possibly could. “And your fucking grammar still sucks.”

When the slap came, Jensen was expecting it, but it still hurt. “I’m saving you for later. The bossman is gonna try you out first. After all, he just spent a bundle on you, and he wants to make sure you’re worth it.” Clif’s words were measured, but his tone indicated that he wasn’t happy, and Jensen mentally chalked up a score for his side.

Sighing, he turned his head as far as it would go to look at the big ex-bodyguard. “Just tell him I’m waiting, willya? I’m…” he caught sight of Clif. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

The big guy was dressed in what Jensen was almost sure was one of Danneel’s T-shirts. It was a pale green and had a sparkly D over one breast. It strained to cover Clif’s bulk, and the seam had split at one side, so that there was only perhaps an inch of seam holding it together. His belly hung out above his shorts and below the shirt, and his smirk was utterly unpleasant. 

“You like it? I wore it especially for you.” He twirled, put his hand on his hip and snickered. “I see you recognize it. I thought you’d like to know how dear Danni is doing. “I was going to bring her to join you, but Jay was there, and there were a couple of detectives too, so I just snagged the shirt. I’ll go back for her once the big hunt has died down a little.”

“What the hell do you have against me and my wife?” Jensen had listened in horror to Clif’s plans. “What did I ever do to you?”

“Are you kidding?” Clif seemed genuinely perplexed. “You’ve got everything. You don’t deserve it. I’ve worked for what I have, and there you are, just getting it all effortlessly.”

“You really believe that?” Jensen sounded shocked. “I don’t… I can’t… You’re utterly fucked in the head, man.”

“And you’re gonna be fucked in the ass.” Clif gave a nasty laugh. “Many, many times.” He moved around to Jensen’s side and patted his cheek. “I’ll see you later. I’m just gonna go console your grieving wife, okay? I’ll take good care of her. Oh, and Jared. I’m sure he misses getting his ashes hauled, too. That little stick he’s married to couldn’t possibly take all he has to offer, I’m sure.”

So saying, the big man took himself off, and a few moments later Jensen heard somebody new come in behind him.

“Are you the guy who paid all that money for me?” he asked, wondering if he’d recognize the man’s voice. 

“That would be me,” was the response. The voice was cultured, slightly accented, and Jensen frowned, not recognizing it in the slightest.

“So this is where you twirl your moustache and take me for your bitch?” Inside, Jensen was convinced that this was going to be anything but fun, but he did not want to antagonize the man, well aware that the only way to get decent treatment would be to win him over.

“Pretty much,” said his new owner, a faint laugh in his voice. “I don’t have a moustache, but if you really want, I’ll grow one for you.”

“Uh, that’s all right.” Jensen gritted his teeth as he felt hands caressing his buttocks. “I’ve never been a fan. Ask that fat fuck that just left.” He felt a drizzle of cool liquid drip into the crack between his cheeks, and bit his lip as fingers began to work it in and around his hole. “And thanks for the lube. I was a little worried that there would be - you know – rough treatment.”

“Oh, no, my dear chap. I would not for a minute deface my investment. I’m really happy that you appear to be a reasonable man.” Fingers were slipping in and out of him now, circling and stretching him. It burned a little, but it wasn’t agony. If it didn’t get any worse, Jensen was sure that he could take it. “I was concerned that I might have to drug you, and that would cause you to lose value very swiftly.”

“Hey, it’s only sex. What the fuck? I like sex, so why weep about it?” As he spoke, he wondered if he’d perhaps overplayed things a little. No way would anyone in their right mind believe that he’d just lie down and accept that he’d been bought by someone who obviously wanted to sell his ass to anyone who could pay his asking price. Still, maybe the man before him wasn’t sane, and, in fact, despite the cultured tones and the polite language, a man who believed it was perfectly normal to have someone kidnapped from a position of high visibility just to satisfy a whim had to be one sandwich short of a picnic. He’d go with that theory until proven wrong.

After that, things progressed very rapidly. The man waited no longer to fuck him, and although it mostly stopped being painful after a few moments it was hardly pleasant. It didn’t take his violator long to come, and as he did so he lapsed into a language that Jensen didn’t know.

“Thank you,” said the man as he finally pulled out to allow his ejaculate to dribble down Jensen’s legs. “That was delightful. We must do it again very soon.” 

“Sure,” Jensen replied. “Maybe you won’t feel the need to tie me down next time.”

“I’ll certainly think about that,” was the response.

“Hey, what should I call you?” 

“You may call me Vasilios.” There was a caress to Jensen’s back and then, “I will have them release you. You may be hungry, and I don’t want you to be in need of anything.”

“That’s very kind of you, Vasilios.” Jensen grinned to himself as he spoke wondering just how he was managing to stay calm and not run shrieking. “I’m not particularly hungry, but I am tired and thirsty. I’d kinda like to get some sleep before I’m turned into the whore of Babylon.”

“You shall have what you need.” Vasilios retreated to the door and called for assistance. When whoever had been outside the door materialized, Vasilios issued instructions that he be released and conveyed to a bedroom that had been prepared. “Jensen, my friend, I am trusting you not to start fighting. We do have the drugs to compel you, but I would so much rather not submit your system to such punishment.”

“Yeah, Vasilios. Me too,” agreed Jensen.

~*~

Jared was exhausted. He woke with a start, realizing after a few muzzy seconds that he’d dozed off sitting at Danneel’s kitchen table. His neck ached, and of his mouth tasted the way he imagined a sumo wrestler’s jockstrap might. Groaning, he rolled his head around in an effort to unkink aching muscles and turned when he heard footsteps approaching,

Danneel seemed to have aged ten years in a single night, her face showing the strain of the past 24 hours, and Clif, looking remarkably well rested, was following her in.

“Any news yet?” the burly bodyguard asked as he neared the table where Jared still sat.

“Haven’t heard anything yet,” answered Danneel, and Jared shrugged, still trying to clear his brain of cobwebs.

“I was thinking,” murmured Clif, accepting the coffee that Danneel had poured and adding a couple of spoons of sugar. “He was feeling pretty low before we broke for the summer. He was tired, and listless and showing all the signs of acute depression. Do you think that he might have just… decided to take off for a while? Sort his head out? I know that he was feeling more and more affected by Dean. To tell the truth, I’ve been waiting for something like this to happen, and that’s what I told the cops when they interviewed me.”

Danneel turned pale, and Jared felt something cold slither down to clench at his heart. How had he not noticed Jensen sliding into depression. The whole increasing paranoia, losing things, forgetting things and being exhausted all the time. Clif was right, and he’d noticed when Jared hadn’t. Some friend he was!

“What do you think we should do?” he asked.

“Well, I’m guessing we should start by checking the hospitals to see if he’s turned up there. The cops will keep an eye open for him, so if he’s just wandering in some kind of fugue state he’ll be picked up, but I think he just dumped his whole life and walked away from it for a while. To tell the truth, I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned up in Richardson in a day or two.”

“Hospitals, yeah. Good idea.” Jared’s head was reeling. How could he not have seen? He _had_ seen it, but he hadn’t taken it seriously. What a poor friend he was. He jumped to his feet to go and find his laptop. He’d start by making a list of all the hospitals in Southern California.

“Danni, sweetheart,” he said, his voice a croak. “Do you think you can call Richardson and find out whether anyone’s heard from Jen?”

Nodding, impassive, Danneel went to find the phone, and Clif rose. “Okay, I’m gonna go talk to a buddy of mine. He’s a detective, and he might be able to investigate a little more thoroughly than the cops. He’s expensive, but…”

“Anything,” mumbled Danneel, and Clif smiled at her as he took his leave.

~*~

Jensen was bored and frustrated. He hadn’t had any clothing given to him, and he wanted a shower. Vasilios had been to see him three times now, and each time he’d acted as if Jensen was a treasured guest before using him and departing. This time, when the man appeared in his room, Jensen glared at him.

“You don’t seem happy today, my friend,” murmured Vasilios.

“Can you blame me?” Jensen’s eyes snapped fire. “I’m bored out of my skull. I’ve read the pathetic magazines you left half a dozen times, and they were pretty stupid to start with. If I’m going to end up in this fucking room for the rest of my life, the least you could do is give me something to pass the time.”

“I fear that you are going to spend more time here, but I don’t want you to be bored.” Vasilios was already rubbing his groin as he approached Jensen, and Jensen tried his hardest not to roll his eyes. “Tell me what you would like, and if you please me I’ll have it brought to you.”

“Oh, dude, I’ll please the fuck out of you,” smirked Jensen, his mind coolly sifting through the list of things he’d thought might give him an edge. “I’d really like my guitar,” he said. “But a couple of books would be good too – or I dunno, a TV set?”

“Your own guitar would be difficult to provide without a long wait, but I am certain that I can find you one that you can use.” Vasilios nodded. “I want you to be happy here. Tomorrow you are going to begin to provide a return on my investment. I believe that you will be able to charm three clients a day to start with. From there, we shall see. I believe you and I will have an extremely prosperous partnership, my dear.”

“Great.” Jensen managed a smile. “I don’t care if it isn’t my own guitar. I just want to do something to pass the time. I could use a shower too, if I’m going to be pimped out to subscribers.”

“Oh, come now, Jensen. Let’s not be crude. I’d prefer to think of it as you entertaining some of my friends.” The man frowned, pursing his lips as he considered Jensen. “However, you are right. You should have better quarters, and fortunately I have been creating them for you. We’ll move you later today, and you may take as many showers as you wish.”

“That sounds amazing,” said Jensen, wondering just where they were going to move him to, and what the implications were. “I’ll be looking forward to that.”

“Very well, my friend. Once we are done here today I shall go and buy you a guitar. Consider it a reward for your charming companionship.” Vasilios pushed his tailored pants down, pulled out his cock and reached for Jensen. “Now show me how you should thank me.”

~*~

Clif arrived some time after the encounter. He was bearing the key to the chain that tied Jensen to the bed and a taser which he showed Jensen with a smirk. “Boss says a couple of belts from this will keep you honest, so don’t try anything stupid, and everything will be fine.”

Biting back the bitter retort that sprang to his lips, Jensen bowed his head and allowed the thug to remove the iron cuff and at last he was free of restrictions. Rising to his feet, he stood waiting for the man to show him where he wanted him to go.

“You know, I’m saving up for a piece of you,” smirked the ex-bodyguard, running his hand down over Jensen’s ass before grabbing hold of his wrist and towing him forward. “Won’t be long now.”

“Can’t wait,” muttered Jensen under his breath.

He wasn’t taken far. The place he was in appeared to be one of the older houses in Beverley Hills, and it was all on one level, with terra cotta floors and Navajo décor. He was led into a suite of rooms that had been decorated in what Jensen liked to think of as ‘Parisian Brothel’. Overdone flounces and mirrors everywhere made him shudder a little, but the bathroom had a jacuzzi and a walk-in shower with three heads, and just then that was his priority.

The hot water was beginning to cool when he stepped out of the shower at last and enveloped himself in an enormous, fluffy towel. Drying off, he wandered back into the bedroom to find that in his absence a box full of assorted paperbacks had been dumped on the bed, alongside a sleek, Ovation guitar. He paused while he admired it, congratulating himself on achieving the first part of his plan. It might be a day or so before he could work out how best to implement his escape, but in the meantime he would have a guitar.

He was relieved to find clothing in the drawers of the dresser, and he pulled on a pair of sweats, feeling better for being clean and clothed for the first time since he’d been put up for auction.

~*~

Vasilios came to him as usual that night, and after the obligatory fucking, Jensen expressed his delight at the guitar, and played a couple of songs, so that the man could see that he was in fact able to play. His captor seemed charmed and announced that he could listen to Jensen for hours, congratulating himself on making Jensen happy. Jensen had launched into a spirited rendition of “Sweet Home Alabama” at that, and cursed as he succeeded in breaking his top ‘E’ string. Looking crestfallen he set the guitar aside, and Vasilios patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, my dear. I will have a new one brought to you shortly. Come and show me your gratitude now…” 

Jensen had learned to tolerate the man’s attentions, and his humiliation was soon over. He gave an insincere smile to his abuser and settled back onto his bed with what he hoped was a submissive look. “You won’t forget my string, will you?” he asked.

“Of course I won’t. I want you to be happy.” Vasilios was fastening his clothing as he spoke, and he bestowed a smile on Jensen as he buttoned his pants. “And now we must discuss business, my dear,” he said. “I have booked some clients for you tomorrow. There will be three of them, and I must say that you have a waiting list already. I don’t wish you to become exhausted, but I do feel that it is time for you to begin earning your keep now. The appointments are spaced an hour and a half apart, to allow you half an hour in which to refresh yourself between one leaving and the next arriving.”

It no longer shocked Jensen that this man discussed whoring him out as if he were a piece of meat while sounding as if he were merely giving Jensen a domestic task, and all the while sounding as if Jensen had a choice. He raised his eyebrows at Vasilios.

“You really gonna pimp me out to a bunch of losers who can’t get it without paying?” he asked, driven to exasperation by the man’s attitude.

“Oh, no, my friend, you misunderstand. These are not losers. Let’s call them appreciators of the finest things in life. They are all admirers of beauty, with the money to pay for their pleasures, as am I. You should be honored.” Vasilios had drawn his brows together, and Jensen didn’t want to antagonize him, because he wasn’t quite ready to make his break for freedom. He merely looked away.

“I suppose I should,” he mumbled, a smirk on his face. “So will you come see me tomorrow, after?” 

Vasilios stretched out his hand to pat Jensen’s shoulder. “Of course,” he said. “It will be later in the evening, since I have business, but I’ll look forward to hearing about your first day’s work.”

Jensen did roll his eyes at that, but if Vasilios noticed, he didn’t mention it, and soon afterwards he placed an unwelcome kiss on Jensen’s cheek and left, locking the door behind him.

~*~

Days had passed. The police had nothing, and weren’t taking Jensen’s disappearance seriously. Jared had gone around what felt like every hospital in southern California, armed with photographs of Jensen, looking for john does who might turn out to be his co-star, and come up with absolutely nothing.

Clif’s buddy had turned out to be a tall, thin man with an eager expression who had made one or two suggestions, accepted a sizeable retainer from Jared for his services and then apparently disappeared off the face of the earth. To Jared, it seemed as if the man knew something more than he was supposed to about the situation, and although he was extremely polite to both Jared and Danneel, Jared caught him smirking at Clif a couple of times, and it was only the desperate need to have someone – anyone – take Jensen’s disappearance seriously that allowed him to accept the man’s services.

Genevieve had pretty much told Jared to suck it up and move on. It was very evident that she was not, and had never been a fan of Jensen’s. 

“You’re jealous,” exclaimed Jared at last, after she’d delivered a blistering tirade to him about spousal neglect. “Gen, he’s my best friend. I lo…”

She’d turned and walked away from him at that moment, locking herself into the bedroom and refusing to acknowledge his attempts to pacify her, and finally he’d shrugged and walked away.

Danneel had been devastated for a few days, but as time went on she’d apparently picked up her life and moved on, and currently she was away in Mexico, filming a bodice ripper that had cast her in a rather significant role as a kind of female Zorro. 

Alone in his worry, Jared was close to giving up himself, and it almost seemed as if Jensen’s disappearance would forever remain a mystery.

He had just returned home from an extra long afternoon run with the dogs and was standing in the kitchen, knocking back a bottle of water when his phone rang. It was Jeff Morgan, who had been out of town in Europe until very recently, and wanted Jared to have dinner with him.

“Got something kind of important to tell you,” he said, deep voice rasping. “See this evening.”

“Oh, yeah?” Jared said. “Something good?”

“Something important,” replied Jeff, somewhat mysteriously.

Glad for the contact, and for something to take his mind off his missing friend, Jared eagerly agreed to meet Jeff at Canter’s Deli and hurried off to shower and make himself presentable. He loved Canter’s, knowing that the portions would be big enough even for him, and he was excited to see Jeff.

He was in his car heading for Fairfax when it suddenly struck him that Jeff hadn’t mentioned Jensen. Frowning as he pulled into the parking lot alongside the deli, he shook his head. The three of them always got together as a group. Of course, there were many reasons why Jeff hadn’t mentioned Jensen. Maybe he’d been going to call him after he’d spoken to Jared. Maybe he’d realized something had happened to Jensen and wanted to get information from Jared. Yeah, on reflection that was likely to be the answer.

Shrugging to himself, Jared headed into the diner.

~*~

The first paying customer Jensen had received that day was Jeffrey Dean Morgan. Jeff had appeared to be shocked when he recognized Jensen, and stood blinking at him as if trying to banish a hallucination.

“Jensen?”

“Yeah, Jeff.” Jensen’s voice was scathing. “Come to release a little tension? I’m kinda disappointed in you.” Jensen turned away and indicated the bathroom. “Better go lube up, hadn’t I? Got to make it worth your while.” 

“Come on, man. It’s not as if I knew it was you I was buying.” Jeff finally seemed to make a decision. “But to tell the truth I always did wonder what it would be like to get it on with you. Those lips, you know?”

Jensen curled one of the aforementioned lips in scorn. “You know, I’d cut the fucking things right off my face if I thought it would make a difference.” He gave a sigh, suddenly weary. “You know we’re being filmed? You might as well do what you came for. Go on, I’ll just wait right here.”

Moving across to put his hand on Jensen’s shoulder, Jeff bent to kiss his ear. “Just hang tight,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that he hoped wouldn’t carry to the microphone that doubtless accompanied the camera. “I’ll get you out.”

Then he pulled Jensen close and pressed his lips against Jensen’s, and his hand around Jensen’s jaw pressed his jaw open so that he could invade Jensen’s mouth. Jensen relaxed into it, thinking, ‘No, you fucker, I’ll get myself out of this, just wait and see.’

~*~

Strolling into the gaudy interior of Canter’s, Jared spotted Jeff sitting at one of the booths. He raised his hand as Jared hurried over and settled down opposite him. “Hey, man, how was Europe?”

“Greece,” said Jeff, rising to greet Jared. “It’s beautiful. Have you been?”

“Not yet,” grinned Jared. “They haven’t had a con there yet. I keep on hoping…”

The server appeared at that moment to place the obligatory pickles on the table and take their order. Jared requested sweet potato fries and the roast turkey sandwich to follow, while Jeff opted for quesadillas. 

They passed the time as they waited for their meal in idle chat about Europe, and Jared regaled Jeff with the story about how he’d managed to stop all the trains across Europe while trying to retrieve Genevieve’s suitcase. It was only after they’d begun to eat that Jeff suddenly laid down his fork with a frown.

“It’s about Jensen,” he said. Jared gaped at him. It took him a minute to collect his wits, but once he had, the questions tumbled out in a rush.

“Jensen? He’s been missing for weeks now. What have you heard? Do you know where he is?”

“I’d heard he was missing,” said Jeff. “But I thought that he’d decided to head out for some ‘me’ time. That’s what everyone’s been saying.“ He took a deep breath. “While I was in Greece, I was talking to one of the producers. He was really full of enthusiasm for this young man he said he’d taken on as a… what do you call them when they’re too high class to be hookers? Are guys courtesans, or is that just women?”

Jared was staring in confusion. “What’s this got to do with Jensen?” he asked.

“Well, Vasilios invited me to go meet his protégé a week or so ago, and today I took him up on it.” Jeff spread his hands. “This fancy prostitute Vasilios is peddling is Jensen, and I told him I’d get him out of there, so I figured we could get some muscle and go liberate him.”

“Jesus, fuck!” Jared was half out of his seat. “Why didn’t you tell me straight away? We could’ve had him out by now.”

“Hold on there.” Jeff hadn’t risen. “If we’d gone rushing off half-cocked, either we’d have been killed or we’d have tipped them off so they could move him. I figured we’d wait ‘til later tonight and hope that there were less people around, and that he’d be all locked up for the evening. We’d stand a much better chance getting away with it then.”

Nodding, Jared subsided. “Okay, you’ve got a point. So how many people do you think we should involve, and what about the police?”

Pursing his lips, Jeff considered. “What about that big bruiser that drives you around? The bald guy? Oh, and if he’s around, Jensen’s buddy, Kane is a possible. He’s a martial artist, I think, yes?”

Nodding, Jared reached for his cell phone and, with trembling fingers, dialed Clif’s number.

~*~

After Jeff had gone, Jensen had been left with a headache. He had seen another ‘client’ as Vasilios liked to call them, and now he was getting himself psyched up to make his bid for freedom. He was playing his guitar when the door opened to admit Clif.

Jensen ignored him for a few minutes, concentrating on his guitar, and that seemed to annoy Clif, who put his hand out to grab hold of the instrument by its neck. Jensen let it go rather than see it break, and folded his arms, looking at Clif with a contemptuous smirk. “Dude, just fuck off, why don’t you? I’m going to be entertaining someone any minute now, and they don’t need a fat fuck like you to put them off their stroke.”

“Newsflash, babycakes, I am your next client, and, believe me, I don’t intend to be put off my stroke in the least. I’ve waited for this for a very long time.” Clif came closer, and Jensen jerked his head up.

“You? How did you get the dollars to buy my ass? I know what Vasilios is charging for me.” 

“See, this is where I’ve been clever.” Clif smiled. “I’ve been consoling Danni and Jared, because they are so very sad that you’ve decided to walk away from them to find yourself.” His smile broadened as he saw Jensen’s reaction. “Oh, yeah. See, I told the cops all about the dreadful depression you were falling into at the end of the season – the exhaustion and the need to sleep all the time, and they think you’re suffering from depression. Jared had to bear out my testimony too, so the police aren’t looking for you. Sweet little Danni thinks you’ve left her, and she’s gone off to Mexico with Diego Luna to make some dumbass movie, courtesy of my good friend Vasilios.” Clif’s smile was positively fiendish. “Did you know that Vasilios is a producer? That wasn’t too hard to arrange. I brought you something to remember her by though. It seemed only fair.” He tossed a bag down onto the bed. “Some of her underwear. You can sniff it when you’ve finished going down on me.”

“Don’t make me puke,” muttered Jensen, and Clif nodded, looking very proud of himself. 

“So then I took a friend to see Jared. Told your lanky buddy that he was a private eye and Jared paid him a whole bunch of lovely money to retain his services to help find you. Doesn’t seem like he’s having too much luck in that regard, but in the meantime I get to come and sample the delights of your upper class ass.”

“In your dreams.” Jensen was shocked, but as Clif reached for him, he fought. He’d been quiescent until now, banking on his apparent acceptance of his situation as a way of lulling Vasilios into believing that he’d bought into the situation he was in, but this was too much. His furious yells, and the fact that he’d landed a punch on Clif’s jaw that had sent him staggering to the floor, brought not only the goon du jour, an ox-like man who appeared to neither speak nor understand English, but Vasilios himself.

Clif had just begun to get up to his knees, and Jensen was about to hit him again, when they burst into the room.

“Jensen, my friend, this unseemly display is unlike you.” Vasilios was frowning, his air that of an aggrieved father. His goon had stepped between Jensen and his target, and Clif, back on his feet by now, was struggling with him.

“I would be most grateful if you would explain to me this outburst.” There was a cold anger in Vasilios’s eyes that on another day would have depressed Jensen, indicating that he’d blown the careful image of himself he’d been building, but he was too angry to care.

“I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me,” he growled at his captor. “But I won’t let that… that… bastard touch me. Just… no.”

Vasilios raised his eyebrows delicately. “You have an aversion to him?”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Jensen was incandescent with rage. “This… freak has somehow extorted money out of my best friend after betraying both of us, so he can come here, buy my time and my body and gloat about it, and I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to render me unconscious if you want to let him fuck me.”

“That could be arranged,” said Vasilios, meaningfully.

“Yeah, I get that.” Jensen bit his lip. “Do what you gotta, but I warn you, I won’t be a happy camper.”

For a moment, Vasilios stood, apparently deep in thought. Then he appeared to come to a decision. Nodding, he turned to his enforcer and delivered what appeared to be instructions to him in a language that Jensen didn’t know. The man nodded and then began to move Clif towards the door.

“Hey, I paid for my turn. You’ve got no right to…” Clif protested. 

“My good friend Jensen does not like you,” said Vasilios, smiling at Clif. “And since I treasure his friendship rather more than I treasure yours, I fear you must depart unsatisfied.”

“Oh, yeah?” Clif’s moustache bristled. “You’d better let me have what I paid for. You think I won’t tell the cops where he is?”

“I know you won’t, my friend.” Vasilios’s voice turned cold. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a small pistol and shot Clif twice between his eyes. Clif dropped like a sack of potatoes to lie across the threshold. Turning to the bodyguard who had stood by impassively, Vasilios proceeded to issue him more orders.

The bodyguard pulled out his phone and made a brief call, and after a few moments the other man Jensen had come to think of as his minder materialized with a dolly, and between the two of them they loaded Clif’s body onto it and trundled it away. A few moments later, Jensen heard the sound of an engine starting up, and realized that they were almost certainly alone, and there would never be a better time than the present to effect his escape.

He turned to look at the blood on the tiled floor. “Good job that didn’t hit the rug, isn’t it?” he said, cocking an eyebrow.” Vasilios laughed.

“I was going to dispense with his services anyway,” he muttered, returning his gun to the inside of his jacket and then, after a moment’s thought, removing the jacket in a way that signaled his intent to take over Clif’s place on Jensen’s schedule. Jensen waited, holding his breath as he stripped, and then began to follow suit, slowly peeling off his shirt as Vasilios climbed onto the bed and sat waiting.

Their coupling was over as swiftly as usual, and, as usual, Vasilios closed his eyes and dozed for a few minutes while he recovered. Jensen eyed him for a brief moment, waiting to make sure he was completely relaxed and then fumbled under his pillow for the guitar string he’d secreted there. He’d taped the end around a couple of spoons, which he’d padded with toilet paper, to provide handles, and now he took a firm hold of them and wrapped the home made garrote around Vasilios’s neck and pulled it tight, twisting it around itself and hauling back on it as his victim returned to grim reality and began to thrash.

There was blood. For some reason, Jensen hadn’t expected blood, but the thin metal string cut through Vasilios’s neck like a knife through butter, and he could feel the wire sinking deeper and deeper into the man’s flesh. Gritting his teeth, he hung on, until at last, red with blood and wild-eyed, he finally felt Vasilios gurgle once and lie still.

He didn’t stop to look at his handiwork. He knew that there was little time before the two heavies returned from their errand. Jumping out of the bed and ignoring the gore that streaked him, he pulled on his jeans, toed on the flip-flops which were his only footwear and dove for the gun in the jacket that lay so neatly folded on the chair. There was a taser too, and a wallet with a whole wad of bills, and he pocketed the money, wondering if any of it had been Jared’s. Finally he seized the keys to the room from where they were stuffed into Vasilios’s pants pocket, and moved to unlock the door.

All was quiet, and he swiftly traversed the corridor, looking for a way out.

~*~

Kane hadn’t minced words when Jared phoned him. He’d simply said, “I’m in,” and waited for Jared to give him instructions. Unable to find Clif, although he’d called him several times, Jared had contacted Jason Manns instead, remembering the size of the man. Now there were four determined men, dressed in black and feeling extremely determined, in the truck that pulled up alongside the stucco wall that surrounded Jensen’s prison.

They’d come prepared with a ladder and ropes, and one by one they mounted the ladder and clambered over the wall. Kane, who was the last to go, paused at the top to pull the ladder up and drop it down on the inside of the grounds before jumping down after the others.

They didn’t know if there were any alarms set, but it didn’t matter. They were all armed, and they were going to go in and find Jensen even if there was resistance of some kind. It seemed as though they need have no fear, because the place was, for the most part, in darkness.

They marched together through the shrubbery and around to the front of the house, following behind Jeff, who’d been there earlier and knew the way. They were approaching the main entrance when Jared, who was bringing up the rear, caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.

Stealthily peeling off from his place at the back of the line, he crept towards the place where he thought he’d seen it. All appeared to be still, but as he reached the area, he noticed a faint outline behind the clump of lilacs against the wall. There was someone there, he was sure of that.

The lilac was in bloom, and the scent of it was heady in the still night air. Jared leapt, reached and grabbed for flesh as the other attempted to run. The two of them, tangled together, crashed into a patch of geraniums that would never be the same again.

“I’ll kill you!” 

The voice was hoarse, desperate, and Jared froze.

“Jensen?”

Kane had followed Jared, and now pointed his flashlight at the two struggling figures, and the man Jared was pinning was revealed. Jensen’s eyes were wide, glazed and terror stricken; his torso was bare and streaked with blood. He was breathing in short, panicky gasps, and he didn’t appear to know who had hold of him. He kept on muttering, “Kill you, I’ll kill you,” as tears began to well from his eyes.

It took the two of them to pacify him, and it was a while before he slumped, limp and sobbing against Jared’s shoulder.

Jeff and Jason had kept on going, in through the open front door and along to where Jeff knew that Jensen had been held. They returned, grim faced, to find the three men still grouped together in the Geranium bed.

“We need to go right now.” Jason sounded shocked, and Jeff nodded, turning to the side of the house where they’d left the ladder.

Jensen still seemed somewhat detached, but he went with them readily enough, and as Jared followed him up the ladder they saw a truck draw up, and the gates opened for it to drive through. After that, they could only hustle, hoping to escape before they were discovered.

~*~

After a long series of arguments, Kane had grabbed his phone to contact the police and report the gruesome death of the man who’d held Jensen captive and pimped him out. Then they’d taken Jensen to the hospital, where he’d been treated for shock and examined for not only rape but for any diseases he might have caught during his ordeal. The police had come, and they had all given statements except for Jeff, who had made himself scarce. Jensen hadn’t wanted to be there, but his protests had lacked conviction, and Jared could tell that his best friend was still suffering from the ordeal he’d gone through. 

When Jensen had finally cracked and begun to fight his way free of all restraints, the doctors had allowed him back to his house, where Jared had gotten him in the shower, staying with him to make sure that he didn’t resort to scrubbing himself raw – he’d seen that show with Chris Melloni after all, and he knew the kinds of things rape victims got up to. Jensen was still shivering afterwards, despite the warmth of the Los Angeles night, telling them all that he was okay and that they should all go home. They hadn’t, of course.

Things happened fast after that. Jason had called in a lawyer he knew to advise Jensen on how to handle things, and it had been agreed that Jared would be the one to take care of his friend while he recovered from his ordeal. Genevieve had arrived just as dawn was breaking to yell at him for putting Jensen first, but Jared had barely listened, and eventually she’d stormed off. Jared regarded her departure with a shrug. If she was going to be like that when his best friend was in the kind of trouble Jensen was, then he’d obviously chosen poorly. He’d deal with her later, but for now, Jensen needed him and he wasn’t going anywhere. Steve and Christian had headed for home after watching Jensen flinch his way through their attempts to make him smile, with Steve saying darkly, “Gimme the key to the guesthouse, bitch, we’re gonna be back as soon as we’ve had a little sleep.”

Jason had found the key for them and accompanied them out to the guest house, telling them that he’d call Krista to tell her just where he was and then grab a couple of hours himself.

Jensen had announced that he didn’t want to see anyone except for Jason’s lawyer and Jared. Jared didn’t want to leave him for a moment, scared of just what he might do if left alone. He wanted to hug Jensen, to tell him it would all be fine, but every time he reached to put his arms around Jensen, there was a flinch and Jensen’s eyes widened in panic.

“I’m sorry, dude,” he muttered to Jared as his co-star backed away again. “I managed to hold it together for days. Don’t know why I’m falling apart now.”

“You went through a lot, man.” Jared pulled Jensen close and hugged him without paying attention to his attempts to avoid the intimacy. “Anyone else would’ve folded, but you managed to fight your way free. I’m proud of ya.” He patted Jensen’s back as he felt tight muscles slowly give way. “But this is just me. You can let me touch you. I’m not about to get up to any funny stuff. I know you’re not up to it right now.”

Heaving a sigh, Jensen settled into the hug. “I know, Jay. It’s just…”

He didn’t say anything further, because at that moment the doorbell rang. Letting Jensen go reluctantly, Jared went to find out who was at the door and returned with Jeff behind him looking somewhat unsure of himself.

“What’s he doing here?” Jensen made his way to the other side of the table as if to place it between them.

“Jensen, I came to see if we can get our story straight.” Jeff seemed to be choosing his words carefully, and Jensen folded his arms across his chest.

“Straight?” he snorted. “Let me think… you came and raped me along with all the other assholes who had enough money. Am I right?”

The words made Jared flinch, Jeff too. Finally Jared, who had stepped away from Jeff, murmured, “He did come and tell me where you were. That’s the only way we were there and able to get you out of there before those thugs came back.”

“And?” Jensen studied Jeff, his lip curled. “Now you want me to forgive and forget?” He turned his back, going over to grab the coffee maker and start to replenish it. “You’ve got plenty of nerve; I’ll say that.”

“I thought we were friends.” Jeff took a step forward but inhaled sharply as Jared dropped one large hand onto his shoulder, freezing in his tracks. “It’s okay,” he said, turning to Jared, aggrieved. “I wasn’t gonna do anything.”

“Friends?” Jensen put the carafe under the machine and flipped the switch to set it going. “I thought we were, too. Is that what friends do? They rape each other when they catch them in a tough spot? I didn’t read the memo.”

“Please, Jen. I did help get you out. I could go to jail…”

Jensen slapped his hands down on the table. “I will tell them that you helped me get away; that we planned it together.” As Jeff’s shoulders sagged in relief, Jensen’s face hardened. “Now fuck off out of my house, and never let me see you sniffing round me again. You’re not welcome any more, Morgan.”

There was a pause. Jared held his breath, waiting for the protest that would come. It didn’t. Jeff turned without a word and left. Jared rushed to Jensen’s side just in time as he slumped back against the counter, hands covering his face to hide that he was beginning to break down.

It would take time for Jensen to recover, Jared knew that, and he knew that the fallout would send ripples through not only the community of Jensen’s friends, but also the show and the fans. It would be a long, hard journey back to health for them all. He vowed then and there that he would be there no matter what, to help Jensen recover, and that someday he would see Jensen back to being the happy, funny, self controlled man that he had been before. Until that day, he had a new job. As the doorbell rang, and he went to let the lawyer in, he knew that it would be rewarding and he would take it on.


End file.
